The dressing room was chaotic.
Someone had hooked a phone up to the sound system, and heavy hip-hop beats filled the space. Tyrell was dancing in the center, shirtless, twirling his shirt above his head. Even Gareth, usually so serious and professional, walked around grinning and shaking hands with every player.
"Listen up!" Gareth yelled, turning the music down. The players quieted, but adrenaline still buzzed in the air.
"Tonight," Gareth said, looking at everyone in the room, "you didn't just win a football match. You defeated a giant. You faced Arsenal and didn't flinch. That sets the bar now. Not just for the Cup, but for every single day. If you can perform here, under these lights, you can do it anywhere."
He turned to Ethan. "Matthews. That free kick. That's what we call delivery. Top class."
Ethan beamed, sinking back onto the bench. His legs felt shaky, his ankle throbbed again, and he had a bruise blooming on his ribs from where the Arsenal number 8 had shoved him. He had never felt better.
After the showers, dressed in their club tracksuits, the team filed out of the stadium. The massive floodlights had dimmed, leaving the players' car park glowing in the orange light of the street lamps.
A small crowd waited behind the metal barriers. Parents, girlfriends, and a few autograph seekers wanting signatures from anyone in club gear.
Ethan scanned the crowd and spotted them right away. His mum stood near the front, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Next to her, looking a bit out of place but completely unfazed, were Callum and Mason in their Crestwood gear.
Ethan walked over, his kit bag heavy on his shoulder. His mum hugged him first, holding him tight. "I saw you," she whispered. "You looked so grown up out there."
"Thanks, Mum," Ethan replied, hugging her back.
Then Callum jumped in, grabbing Ethan's hand and pulling him into a hug. "The assist king!" Callum shouted, ignoring the stares from the other academy parents. "From the stand, that ball looked remote-controlled. You pressed 'X,' and it just pinged onto his head."
"It was a decent ball," Mason agreed, nodding. He sized Ethan up. "You look wrecked."
"I am," Ethan said. "That midfield didn't stop running. It's like facing three of you, Mason."
Mason smirked. "Terrifying, then."
"Did you see me?" Callum asked, bouncing on his heels. "When you won the free kick? I was shouting at the ref. I think I intimidated him into giving the yellow card."
"I saw you," Ethan laughed. "Hard to miss that red jacket."
"We need to head back," Mason said, checking his phone. "Train leaves New Street in forty minutes. School tomorrow." The reality hit Ethan. He had just played at The Hawthorns, but tomorrow was Wednesday. He had a BTEC Sports Science lecture at 9:00 AM.
"Right," Ethan said. "I need to catch the bus. Curfew."
He looked at his friends. Standing in the car park of a professional stadium, with adrenaline wearing off and the cold settling in, the distance between their lives felt both huge and tiny. They were going back to Eastfield, to muddy fields and school assemblies. He was heading back to his digs, to protein shakes and video breakdowns.
But for tonight, they were just three boys riding high from a win.
"The next round draw is Monday," Callum said, walking backward. "If you get United away, we're coming. I don't care if I have to sell a kidney for the train ticket."
"I'll keep you posted," Ethan grinned.
"Good game, Eastfield," Mason called, waving goodbye.
Ethan watched them walk away toward the train station, flanked by his mum. He stood there until they turned the corner, disappearing into the Birmingham night.
"Matthews! Bus!" Tyrell shouted from the open door of the team coach. "Unless you want to walk home!"
Ethan turned and jogged toward the bus. He climbed the steps, nodded to the driver, and walked down the aisle.
"Sit here," Harvey said, patting the seat next to him. "Twitter is blowing up. Someone posted a clip of your assist. It has, like, five thousand views already."
Ethan sat down and pulled out his phone. He opened the app. There it was, a shaky, fan recorded video from the East Stand. It showed him standing over the ball, the run-up, the strike, and Kieran's header. The caption read, WBA U18s knock out Arsenal. What a ball from the #10.
He watched it three times.
The bus pulled away from The Hawthorns, merging into traffic. Ethan leaned his head against the window, watching the stadium lights fade behind them. He closed his eyes. He could still hear the crowd's roar, the thud of the header, and Callum's voice shouting his name.
He was far from home. But he was exactly where he belonged.